Meet Olivia

Before I was incarcerated, things were finally starting to fall into place. I went to a daily therapy program from nine in the morning to three in the afternoon that offered everything from music therapy to group sessions. It was helping me heal and grow. I had even started my own cleaning business and dreamed of watching it take off, of finally being able to stand on my own and build something for myself and my kids.

So when they came to my house that day, it felt like the ground disappeared beneath me. I was asleep when my mom’s husband called and said the police were at the door asking for me. I remember thinking, for what? I had no idea what was happening.

When I came downstairs, they told me they had found new “evidence”: they’d been watching footage and believed I was the person they'd seen. I was stunned. My heart dropped. I thought everything had already been resolved; the charges had been dropped years earlier. It felt like my life was being snatched away just when I was getting it together.

Being arrested in front of my family was humiliating. Everyone was in shock. My kids, my mom, no one could make sense of it. I had a one-year-old and a 13-year-old son who depended on me. All I could think was, How am I going to explain this to them?

Jail was a nightmare. The mats were thin, the food was barely edible, and if you needed medical attention, it could take forever to get it. Everything moved slowly unless it was about punishment. It was cold, dirty, and dehumanizing.

Emotionally, I was falling apart. My depression worsened, and I felt confused, scared, and hopeless. I prayed constantly. My family did too. When we talked on the phone, they tried to keep my spirits up, but it was hard. I could hear the pain in their voices.

One moment that still sticks with me was when I tried to go to a church service inside. I knocked and knocked, trying to get the officer’s attention so I could attend. Worship had always been my way to hold on to faith, but that day I was ignored. Being denied even that small bit of peace, it broke something in me.

My bail was set at $5,000. My family didn’t have that kind of money, so I started preparing myself to sit there as long as it took. I ended up spending three weeks inside before the Philadelphia Community Bail Fund stepped in.

When they told me they were bailing me out, I didn’t believe it at first. It felt unreal, like a miracle. The timing couldn’t have been more powerful. My son was graduating from eighth grade, and I had been praying nonstop that I wouldn’t miss it. When I walked into that graduation, free and able to hug my son, it meant everything to me.

Olivia at her oldest son’s eighth grade graduation.

After that, the Philadelphia Community Bail Fund stayed in touch. They didn’t just help with bail; they gave me a community. In August, they invited my oldest son and me to a healing retreat, where we went canoeing and participated in group exercises. It was the first time in a long time that I felt peace.

Coming home wasn’t easy. I continued to struggle with depression and anxiety, and finding work was almost impossible. I started therapy once a week and got back on my medication, which helped, but being separated from my babies left scars. My oldest understood more than I wanted him to. I was embarrassed and didn’t know how to explain what happened, just that everything would be okay. My youngest didn’t understand why mommy wasn’t there. That broke me.

My mom and my baby’s father took care of them while I was gone, and when I came home, I was able to bring them both back under one roof. That reunion, holding them again, was everything.

I’m currently working with the Philadelphia Community Bail Fund’s Participatory Defense Hub, joining sessions each week to get support and legal guidance. I’m trying to get my record expunged, restart my business, and maybe even go back to school for my bachelor’s degree.

Incarceration changed me. It made it harder to find work, harder to trust the system, but it also made me stronger. It pushed me to be more positive, to show my kids that no matter how dark things get, there’s always a chance to rise again.

I want my children to grow up in a world where they can feel safe, walk outside, go to school, and live without fear.

I’ll never forget what the Philadelphia Community Bail Fund did for me. They gave me more than my freedom; they gave me hope.